


Don't just sit with folded hands and become blind

by stjarna



Series: Season 6 spec fics [14]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fitzsimmons only implied, Gen, Light Angst, Potential for more chapters depending on demand :), canon-compliant MCD implied, season 6 spec
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-10-14 03:14:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17500493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: Season 6 spec fic with Fitz and Enoch to explain Iain’s Space!Mechanic outfit from the New Year’s video.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Big thank you to @dilkirani and @lilsciencequeen
> 
> Title from Guiding Light by Mumford & Sons (official band of Fitzsimmons' song lyrics ;) )
> 
> [Please, no Wondercon-related spoilers in the comments, I don't want to know how far off or close I was until seeing the premier myself ;) ]

Fitz gasped, opening his eyes. He felt constricted, and it took him a moment to recognize where he was—the hazy, small window pane uncomfortably close to his face. His mind flooded with memories—Hunter’s semi-joking ‘I love you’ echoing in his ears, at the same time a darker voice tried to instill doubt about everything he thought he knew about himself. _Every light needs a shadow_ , Hunter had told him. Still, he didn’t want that kind of shadow. He pushed it back to the far corners of his mind, when Enoch’s face suddenly appeared in front of the window.

“Good morning, Fitz. Rise and shine,” Fitz heard the Chronicon’s muffled voice, before the small chamber hissed loudly and he felt a gust of air as the lid lifted. A shiver ran through him, whether from the aftereffects of cryostasis or fear of the unknown, he couldn’t tell. Fitz tried to sit up, every muscle and bone in his body aching.

He readily accepted Enoch’s helping hand. “How do you feel?”

Fitz sat still on the edge of the cryo chamber for a moment, noticing pain being replaced by tingles. He rubbed his forehead, waiting for the spinning to stop. “Better than I thought after 74 years on ice,” he replied groggily.

“Well, it has not exactly been 74 years. You have been in cryostasis much shorter than anticipated.”

Fitz looked up in surprise. “What? You woke me up early? Why would you do that?”

The Chronicon stood in his usual stoic way, his hands clasped behind his back. “There is substantial evidence the extinction-level event that Robin predicted has been prevented.”

Fitz squinted. “What?”

“The data I have gathered through various channels suggests that the team successfully returned from the future and prevented Earth’s destruction.” Enoch’s head moved in miniature staccato increments. “I also detected what appears to be the Zephyr headed in our general direction.”

“The Zephyr?” Fitz shook his head in confusion. “But it’s not built to go to space. I had plans drawn up, but they were all theoretical,” he muttered to himself more than to Enoch.

“It appears those plans have been realized.”

Fitz scoffed, one corner of his mouth ticking up into a proud half-smile. “Should have known Jemma would figure out how to get back and save Earth.” He looked questioningly at Enoch. “How do they know where to find us though? Hunter?”

“According to my sources, it appears that you yourself conveyed that information to Jemma Simmons.”

“What?”

“It appears that during a previous attempt to save Earth, you were successful in reaching the future and helping your team return to the current timeline. You were also a decisive factor in preventing the extinction-level event.”

“Previous attempt?” Fitz furrowed his brow. “I don’t under—”

“In fact, you paid the ultimate price for your participation,” Enoch continued matter-of-factly.

“What?”

“My sources indicate that you were killed in the line of duty.”

“Killed in the—What?” Fitz jumped to his feet, his hand reflexively grabbing the rim of the cryo chamber for support when his knees threatened to give in. He shook his head vehemently, raising his voice more than he wanted to. “That’s impossible. Nothing you say makes sense. Time’s fixed. It’s—”

“ _That_ —I assure you—it is not,” Enoch replied, unfazed by Fitz’s outburst.

Fitz let the words sink in, trying to comprehend their implications. “They changed time?” he whispered, somewhere between a statement and a question.

“And broke an ever-recurring loop.”

“And I—” Fitz’s gaze wandered to the floor, his vision becoming blurry from the tears gathering in his eyes.

“—died. Yes, I’m afraid.” Enoch’s voice broke through his clouded mind like a faint echo.

“But I also live because—”

“—you had already left in the cryo pod onboard this vessel before your alter ego returned from the future.”

“I existed twice,” Fitz muttered to himself. “That—It shouldn’t be possible. No energy is created—” He looked up, his heart suddenly beating twice as fast as his breathing sped up in anxious realization. “God, Jemma. She—I—” He bit his lower lip, squeezing his eyes shut, ignoring the tear that rolled down his cheek as he shook his head. He pinched the bridge of his nose, sniffling as he looked back at Enoch. “I broke our promise. I promised her that we wouldn’t let the universe rip us apart and I’ve broken that promise again and again. And now—” He fanned one arm out to the side. “First AIDA and that bloody Framework, and then time, and now—God, she doesn’t deserve that.” He dropped his head back in agony before focussing back on the Chronicon, noticing his voice steadying. “But she’s on her way? You said the Zephyr is on the way?”

Enoch bobbed his head. “Affirmative. However, due to the technical inferiority of their ship, they’re unlikely to receive the transmission I sent for a few more days at least. Plus, they travel at much slower speed than this vessel is capable of.”

Fitz shrugged. “Then we meet them halfway.”

“I’m afraid that is unwise. Our current location is secluded and protects us from—”

Fitz raised his index finger at Enoch in frustration. “I’m not going to sit around here and wait for them to get your message.” He switched directions with his arm, pointing at the hallway instead. “This ship can fly?”

“Affirmative.”

“Then let’s go!”

Enoch pursed his lips, ticking his head to one side microscopically. “As you wish.”

* * *

“So, how much longer until they get your message?” Fitz asked, staring through the ship’s window at the vastness of space as if he could detect the Zephyr with his bare eyes.

“Unknown.”

“But they’re still headed our way?” Fitz followed up, never taking his eyes off the billions of sparkling stars.

“That is correct.” Enoch replied. “Although I must reiterate that it was unwise of us to leave our original location.”

Fitz rolled his eyes. “And why’s that?”

He looked up in surprise, pressing his palm against a metal beam for balance when the ship shook, the lights flickering as the vessel got hit by some energy force.

“It made us detectable to less desirable company,” Fitz heard Enoch say behind his back, before a surge rushed through the ship, knocking Fitz unconscious.

* * *

Fitz’s head throbbed when he woke up, his muscles sore from whatever energy surge had hit them. He sat up, looking in a daze at his surroundings.

“Welcome back, Fitz.”

Fitz’s head spun in the direction of Enoch’s voice. The Chronicon was standing in a separate cell, his hands as usual clasped behind his back. “I am pleased to see that the attack appears to have left you unharmed.”

“Where are we?” Fitz pushed himself up to standing.

“The Chronicon hunters appear to have transferred us to their vessel.”

Fitz did a double-take in Enoch’s direction. “Chronicon hunters?”

“We are a rather desirable species.”

“Desirable?” Fitz wrinkled his forehead, his hand absentmindedly gliding along the wall of his cell, trying to gather useful data on his whereabouts.

“Due to our longevity and ability to take on the appearance of other species, traders are willing to pay large sums for our capture,” Enoch explained matter-of-factly.

“Traders?” Fitz looked at Enoch wide-eyed. “Slave traders?”

“That is correct,” Enoch confirmed with a bob of his head.

Fitz dropped his head back, muttering a quiet “Fuck.”

“On the bright side, this is further proof that the extinction level event has been prevented, as Robin’s drawings before our departure indicated we would make it to the future undisturbed.”

“Swell,” Fitz replied sarcastically. He scanned the cell, sighing deeply. “So, we’re on their ship. Where are we headed?”

“The exact destination is unknown. Although it is likely that we’re on a rendezvous course with a trading vessel.”

Fitz looked over his shoulder at the Chronicon as he walked the perimeter of the confined space he was stuck in. “They didn’t take your ship?”

Enoch pursed his lips. “They presumably took anything of use and value to them but left the vessel itself behind to mislead fellow Chronicon hunters.”

Fitz’s fingers traced the edges of a wall panel that was entirely sealed shut. “So by the time the Zephyr gets your message and reaches the ship, we’ll be long gone.” He stopped his inspection of the cell, rubbing his face and groaning in despair.

“Not necessarily.”

Fitz looked up in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“This vessel does not appear to be in particularly good shape and is travelling at slow speed.”

Fitz’s eyes wandered across the ceiling trying to discern how Enoch was able to tell the speed of the ship. “What about whomever they’re meeting?”

“That I do not know. Nonetheless, I have devised a plan.”

Fitz took a step closer to the shimmering energy wall that separated their cells. “What’s the—?”

He stopped his head reflexively spinning towards the sliding door that opened with a slight hiss.

“Well, look at that. They’re both awake.” A tall man in a ragged uniform of sorts, a weapon hanging from a holster on his hip, entered the room. He looked at Enoch, continuing in his booming tone that aggravated Fitz’s throbbing headache. “Glad the energy surge didn’t damage you. Would have brought down your price significantly.”

“I can assure you your buyers won’t be disappointed,” Enoch addressed him.

The bloke dropped his head back, laughing out loud and gesturing at Enoch. “Oh, Chronicons and their honesty. Gotta love ‘em.”

“What about me?” Fitz asked, stepping closer to the front wall of his cell.

The Chronicon hunter looked at him, furrowing his brow. “You? Ha! Came as a bit of a surprise to find a Chronicon with a human.” He pursed his lips. “Was a bit disappointing, to be honest. Thought I’d gotten myself two Chronicons at first.” He shrugged. “Then I figured, maybe he’s one of those Inhumans the Kree are so crazy about. But no. Plain old human.” The bloke lifted his chin in Enoch’s direction. “I’ll be lucky if his buyer will take you as a freebie. Though I doubt they’d wanna have to feed you. Sorry to say, you may just end up in our airlock—with the outer side unlocked.”

Fitz closed his eyes in resignation, when Enoch’s voice caused him to look back up. “That would be unwise.”

“And how come, Chronicon?” their captor asked.

“Your ship appears to be in a rather dire state, and this man is an expert engineer and mechanic. He may prove quite valuable to your business.”

The Chronicon hunter eyed Fitz up and down. “Is that so?”

“It is indeed,” Enoch replied, while all Fitz could do was stare at the Chronicon in confusion.

“Well, let’s put you to the test, shall we?” their captor announced, causing Fitz to look back at him. He drew his weapon, deactivated the force field and fired a shot past Fitz.

Fitz flinched as the energy beam rushed past him, hitting a wall panel and sending sparks shooting.

The Chronicon hunter smirked, re-engaging the force field and pointing at the busted panel behind Fitz. “My guess is you have about 5 minutes of oxygen now. You fix that little problem, you may just be as valuable to me as the Chronicon says.” He stepped backwards out of the room and closed the door, waving at Fitz through the window, grinning coldly.

Fitz stood frozen in shock for a moment, before a jolt rushed through him. He spun around, running to the destroyed wall panel, trying to reach inside without getting shocked.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he yelled at Enoch, as he attempted to make sense of the cables and connections inside the wall.

“It was my assessment that the ship could use a good mechanic,” Enoch explained. “Considering the slow speed of this vessel compared to a presumably much more advanced and speedier ship awaiting us, it seemed desirable to ensure you would not be transferred. Additionally, having access to the ship’s systems may allow you—”

Fitz stared at the Chronicon as realization finally hit him as to what Enoch’s plan entailed. “—to contact—” He stopped himself, glancing at the security camera in the corner.

“I believe the cameras are dysfunctional,” Enoch remarked matter-of-factly. “Further proof that the ship is indeed in dire need of your qualifications. I did, however, not anticipate the drastic measures our captor would use to let you prove your skills. For that I apologize.”

Fitz continued trying to fix his oxygen supply, noticing his head starting to spin slightly. “What about you?” he asked, briefly focusing on Enoch.

“There is no need to worry about me, Fitz. I have been through worse and am quite capable of fending for myself.” Enoch paused for a moment before taking a step closer. “I have grown rather fond of you and your species, and everything my research on your team has procured ensures me that you reuniting with your friends and Jemma Simmons is a vital and rewarding endeavor.”

Fitz connected a few more cables, noticing the system start to run smoothly again. He leaned his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath, before lifting his head in Enoch’s direction. “Thank you.”

Enoch bobbed his head, the corners of his mouth ticking up barely noticably. “You are quite welcome.”

The sliding door opened again, causing Fitz to shift focus.

“Well, well, well,” the Chronicon hunter declared loudly as he stepped inside, “looks like you just got yourself a job. I hope you have it in you.”

Fitz straightened up, staring directly at his captor. “Oh, I have it in me.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to popular demand.... NEW CHAPTER(S)

The Chronicon hunter gestured at Fitz palm-up, waving his fingers towards himself. “Well then, get going. Let me show you around.”

Fitz wrinkled his forehead, glancing nervously at Enoch, who looked back at him with his usual non-expression. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was a hint of a mysterious smile playing on his lips.

“I don’t have all day, human,” his captor barked, causing Fitz to shift focus.

He walked up to the force field, waiting for the other man to turn it off before stepping outside.

The Chronicon hunter put on a fake, wide smile, gesturing at the hallway. “After you.”

Fitz exhaled sharply and stepped into the corridor, stumbling slightly when his captor gave him a firm slap on the back. “So, do you have a name, human?”

“Could ask you the same,” Fitz countered drily.

The man threw back his head as a deep belly laugh escaped him. “Fair enough. Bragah. Your turn, human.”

Fitz looked at the man, wetting his lips as he contemplated his answer. “Just call me Doctor.”

Bragah lifted his eyebrows. “You’re a mechanic and a doctor? My my my, did we get lucky.”

“Not a medical doctor,” Fitz mumbled in response, his eyes scanning the narrow hallway for anything useful. He scoffed, looking back at the other man. “Though I probably know more about medicine than you do, so—”

The Chronicon hunter laughed out loud, slapping Fitz’s shoulder. “I like a man with confidence.” He stopped, eyeing Fitz up and down. “We have to get you some real clothes though. What kind of mechanic wears—whatever this is?”

Fitz sighed. “Sure, whatever.”

* * *

Fitz looked down at the unfamiliar clothes he was wearing, the worn-out shirt with its cut-off sleeves, the uncomfortable suspenders. He grabbed the safety goggles from the narrow shelf on the wall and pulled them over his head, letting them dangle around his neck. He’d taken his time getting dressed, trying to analyze the small bathroom, searching for ways into the ship’s system—until Bragah had told him sternly through the closed door that he wasn’t about to participate in a beauty competition and should get on with it.

Fitz opened the door, fanning his arms out to the side and raising his eyebrows at Bragah, who was leaning against the wall, one foot resting against the smooth surface, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Happy now?” Fitz asked, disgruntledly.

Bragah pushed himself off the wall, eyeing Fitz up and down. “What a sight for sore eyes,” he laughed sarcastically. “Just one thing missing to complete your dashing look.” He raised his hand, revealing a bracelet of sorts.

Fitz narrowed his brow, as Bragah grabbed his right wrist, snapping the bracelet on before condescendingly patting Fitz’s cheek. His captor grinned at him triumphantly and reached into his pocket, retrieving a remote and pushing its button.

Fitz hissed, his body contorting as pain rushed through every nerve until Bragah released the button. Fitz glared at the Chronicon hunter, breathing heavily as his body recovered.

“Just to be sure you don’t get any bad ideas,” Bragah remarked dryly before tucking the remote back into his pocket and giving Fitz an ungentle shove. “Now, let’s go.”

* * *

After an unceremonious introduction to what appeared to be the only two other crew members on the ship—Taqual and Revrik—Bragah showed Fitz the rest of the vessel.

Fitz squinted when they entered the cargo bay and he noticed the cryo chamber laying to the side. “That’s from Enoch’s ship. Why’d you take it?”

Bragah glanced in the direction of the pod, shrugging nonchalantly. “‘Cause we haven’t had a rescue pod since my lousy excuse of a pilot took off in it when we got stuck in an asteroid field three weeks ago.” He scoffed coldly. “Joke’s on him though. Crashed straight against one of the asteroids. Anyway, seemed like a good idea to take that one and some other things that looked like they could be useful” He lifted his chin in the direction of the cryo chamber and the piles of mechanical pieces lying next to it.

“Rescue pod,” Fitz muttered to himself, his eyes still fixed on the chamber as he followed Bragah into a room at the end of the cargo bay.

“And here it is,” the Chronicon hunter announced importantly. “The engine room.”

Fitz pulled his gaze away from the cryo pod, his eyes widening in shock as he took in the engine room. “What the hell happened here?”

“An asteroid field three weeks ago,” Bragah replied, somewhat annoyed. “And that was just the last of a long series of mishaps.”

Fitz let his eyes wander across the broken machines, consoles, and loose ends of various cables hanging from the ceiling. “Bloody hell.”

“You can fix it though, human, can’t ya?” the Chronicon hunter asked. “Wouldn’t want to be disappointed after having given you a proper outfit and everything.”

Fitz drew in a slow breath, his mouth gaping slightly, his eyes still mesmerized by the sight in front of him. “Yeah, I can fix it. Just worse than I thought, is all.” He exhaled sharply, furrowing his brow. “How can I access the ship’s internal sensors?”

Bragah laughed coldly. “How ‘bout you ask your predecessor? I think that’s exactly what he was trying to repair before an electric shock fried him.”

“They’re not working?” Fitz asked in disbelief.

“Nothing is working, Doctor.” Bragah crossed his arms in front of his chest. “We were barely hobbling along after the asteroid field. Got lucky when our long-range sensors picked up the Chronicon’s ship. We used most of our last energy reserves to take out you and the Chronicon. But the energy surge backfired, knocked out our engine for good. Barely left us with thrusters. Whatever was left of our sensors got knocked out, too. We’re lucky to still have life-support. Though, our mechanic wasn’t so lucky in that regard. That’s where you come in.”

“If I can’t get the sensors back online, I’ll have to check each system manually. Could take days—weeks even.” Fitz shook his head. “You should have just taken Enoch’s ship.”

“And become prey for other Chronicon hunters? I don’t think so. Now how about you make yourself useful and get to work? And like I said earlier,” Bragah pulled the remote from his pocket, glaring at Fitz impatiently, “don’t get any bad ideas.”

Fitz cried out in pain, his muscles cramping as his captor pushed the button of the remote.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I currently have 6 chapters outlines. Let's see if I can stick to that ;)
> 
> [Please, no Wondercon-related spoilers in the comments, I don't want to know how far off or close I was until seeing the premier myself ;) ]


	3. Chapter 3

“So, how’re we doing, Doctor?”

Fitz felt his muscles tense at the mention of his title. He hadn’t wanted to give Bragah his real name, and somehow, in the moment of coming up with an alternative, his mind had conjured up the alter ego that part of him wanted to channel and use to his advantage, while the majority of him wanted to wipe it from his memory.

He exhaled sharply before scooting on his back out of the open air duct he’d been working in. He pushed himself to sitting, pulling his legs up and resting his forearms on his knees, cleaning his hands with a dirty rag as he stared at Bragah. “Well, life support’s in much better shape now. So are the water filtration and sewer systems. And I patched up three almost-hull-breaches.” He glanced at where Revrik was leaning against a console, his arms crossed in front of his chest and his expression bored. “Revrik was a big help,” he added sarcastically.

“Bragah told me to keep an eye on you,” Revrik replied grumpily. “No mention of helping you.”

“So, that’s it?” Bragah interjected before Fitz could say anything in return. “No sensors? No engine? No communication?”

Fitz zeroed in on the Chronicon hunter, pushing himself up to standing, fanning his arms out to the side. “That’s it? I’ve been at it for six hours, and I’ve done more than you guys have managed in three weeks apparently. Excuse me if I thought I should prioritize systems that ensure we can breathe and drink and take a shite, or, you know,  _ not _ explode.”

Bragah raised his hands in defeat, an arrogant smile playing on his lips. “Alright, alright, Doctor. Point taken.”

Fitz placed his hands on his hips, looking back and forth between Bragah and Revrik. “Plus, I don’t know how your species works, but humans need sustenance and sleep—or we stop functioning. And if I stop functioning, the repairs stop functioning, too.”

Bragah let out a belly laugh. “Oh, you’re really something, human. I like you.” He turned to the other crew member. “Revrik, take our new mechanic to the mess so he can eat and then escort him back to his quarters.” Fitz was relieved that Bragah said the last word so pointedly that there was no doubt he was referring to the cell block where Enoch was held as well.

* * *

Fitz stumbled into his cell, propelled forward by Revrik’s shove. He turned around, glaring at the Chronicon hunter, watching as the force field switched back on. He waited until the door had closed before turning to look at Enoch, who was standing in the corner of his cell, his hands clasped behind his back, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Welcome back, Fitz,” the Chronicon said.

Fitz scoffed. “Home sweet home.”

“How was your first day as a mechanic on this vessel?”

Fitz raised his eyebrows, wetting his lips. “The ship is in even worse shape than I thought—which is good for us. Aside from a few essentials, none of the systems are working. You were right. The cameras in here aren’t working. None of the internal sensors are. None of the external sensors are. And we’re not headed for a rendezvous with a potential buyer. We’re barely moving at all. Thrusters are all they have. So we haven’t brought that much distance between us and your ship yet. Which means not much distance between us and where the Zephyr is headed. And they don’t even have communication. So no one is waiting for them, no one knows they have you, and they can’t call for backup.”

“If their communication system is not functioning, then you will be unable to contact the Zephyr,” Enoch remarked, taking a step closer.

“It’s okay,” Fitz waved him off, before walking to the cot in the corner, lying down on his back and propping his head up on his arm. “I’ll figure something out.”

Through the corner of his eyes, Fitz could see that Enoch was still standing in his own cell. “Very well then. I have complete trust in your capabilities.”

One corner of Fitz’s mouth ticked up reflexively. “Thanks,” he mumbled quietly, before shifting slightly, craning his head to look at the Chronicon. “Oh, and you were right. They took what they thought they could use from your ship. Spare parts. Even the cryo chamber. They think it’s a rescue pod.”

“Hm,” Enoch hummed contemplatively. “Well, I suppose it is space worthy and could travel at fast speed if it were ejected through a torpedo shoot. For all intents and purposes, it could be used as a rescue pod.”

Fitz raised his eyebrows, bending his head even further back to get a better glimpse of his friend. “Really?” He moved back into his original, more comfortable position. “Interesting.”

Silence settled in the room. Fitz’s mind raced with thoughts and ideas as he stared at the ceiling. His ears faintly registered that Enoch moved in his cell, presumably to sit or lie down on his cot.

“I think I have a plan to get us out,” Fitz eventually muttered, “—both of us.”

“I assure you, Fitz, that is unnecessary,” Enoch replied calmly.

“I assure you it is, Enoch.”

The Chronicon didn’t say anything in return and Fitz took that as a silent acknowledgment. He inhaled deeply, his gaze becoming blurry as his mind once again wandered off. He chewed on his bottom lip, resting his free hand above his heart, his fingers absentmindedly tapping his chest, imagining he could feel Jemma’s hand beneath his. “How long has it been, Enoch?” he finally dared ask, his heart beating nervously.

“Can you specify what you mean?”

“The cryo chamber. How long was I in the cryo chamber?”

“Approximately one year.”

Fitz sat up in shock, looking at Enoch. “A year?”

“Our removed position from Earth made it difficult to gather information about what was happening there,” Enoch explained calmly. “I needed to confirm without a doubt that the extinction level event had indeed been prevented before making any attempts to interrupt the previously established cryo cycle. To ensure that your body and mind wouldn’t suffer from being prematurely released from cryostasis, I had to take several precautions. Plus, I was not supposed to interfere. In fact, I have gone against several Chronicon regulations in releasing you ahead of time and attempting to return you to your team and Jemma Simmons.”

Fitz bobbed his head in understanding. He settled back down on his cot, staring at the ceiling. “Still. A year,” he mumbled. “For a year she’s been—” He sighed, blinking away tears, before clearing his throat and propping himself up to look at Enoch. “You tell her I’m working on it, okay? You tell her to keep looking, where to find me.”

Enoch furrowed his brow. “ _ I _ tell her?” he asked confused.

“All part of the plan.” Fitz settled back on the bed, chewing his lower lip. “You bleed, right?”

“My appearance is intended to mimic humans in every way, yes,” Enoch replied matter-of-factly.

“But you’re resilient, right? You don’t die easily?”

“That is correct. My midsection, in particular, can sustain severe damage without causing serious harm.”

Fitz nodded slightly, his eyes still fixed on a single spot on the ceiling. “Good.”

“May I inquire as to why you asked?”

“‘Cause I think I’ll have to injure you for my plan to work.” Fitz exhaled sharply. “But I want you to know that I would never want to hurt you if I had a choice.”

“Very well then.”

“But I need more time,” Fitz said quietly. “Make sure it’ll all work. That they trust me enough.”

“That seems advisable indeed,” Enoch replied. “If I may make a suggestion.”

“Hmm?” Fitz hummed.

“You should rest now.”

“You’re right,” Fitz sighed, closing his eyes, his mind immediately wandering to Jemma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Please, no Wondercon-related spoilers in the comments, I don't want to know how far off or close I was until seeing the premier myself ;) ]


	4. Chapter 4

Bragah laughed loudly, raising his glass with one hand and slapping Fitz’s back with the other. “To our good Doctor!”

“Hear, hear!” Revrik and Taqual joined in, clinking their glasses against the Captain’s and waiting for Fitz to do the same before downing their drinks in one go.

The strong alcoholic beverage burned Fitz’s esophagus. He stared at the empty glass in his hand, turning it slowly, strangely mesmerized by the way the lights of the mess reflected in the shimmering surface. Bragah squeezed his shoulder, causing Fitz to look at the Chronicon hunter.

“Only three days here, and you’ve fixed all essential systems. I swear, the air smells nicer and the water tastes better than ever before.”

“Hear, hear!” Revrik and Taqual repeated, the latter reaching for the bottle on the table and pouring everyone another drink.

“Not only that,” Bragah continued, pointing back and forth between Revrik and Taqual, “but he’s also crawled through every air duct on this ship to check for hull instabilities and repair them, got our internal communication system and sensors back online—and our short-range sensors.”

 _To the extent I want them to work_ , Fitz thought, as he nonchalantly took another sip of his drink. “Tomorrow, you’ll get your engine back, if nothing gets in the way,” he said aloud, glancing sideways at Bragah.

“Excellent. Then we can head for the Intersection to find a buyer for the Chronicon. Shouldn’t take us more than a week to get there. By then you’ll probably get long-range communication going as well.” Bragah let out a belly laugh, giving Fitz another slap on the back. “And to think I wanted to throw you out of the airlock because I thought you’d be useless.”

“Yes, well, don’t judge a book by its cover.” Fitz took a big gulp of his drink, before placing the empty glass on the table and pushing himself up to standing. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to head back to the engine room for a few more hours. Revrik, you coming?” he added pointedly, looking at his personal guard.

“Go ahead. I know where to find you,” Revrik replied grumpily. “Lemme finish my drink in peace.”

Bragah waved his finger back and forth between Revrik and Taqual. “The two of you could learn a lot from our good Doctor about work attitude.”

The two crew members groaned in discontent, waving the Captain off in annoyance.

Fitz scoffed, turning on his heels and heading for the engine room in urgent steps. He glanced nervously at the door to ensure Revrik was still in the mess before opening the communication channel to Enoch’s cell. “Enoch, can you hear me?” he asked quietly.

“Loud and clear,” the Chronicon’s voice echoed back through the system.

“It’s time,” Fitz said quickly. “Stand close to the hull. And whatever happens, I’m sorry.”

“Very well then,” Enoch replied. “I’m quite curious to learn about your plan.”

“Let’s just hope it works,” Fitz sighed, switching off communications.

He opened the wall panel of the console and crawled inside on his back to connect the device hidden inside to the internal systems and activate the program, just as Revrik entered the room, announcing himself with an annoyed, “And once again he’s on his back with his head in the wall.”

Fitz scooted back out, sitting up and grinning mischievously at his guard. “Yes, well, if you want your engine back, you’ll see a lot more of me like this. And if you wanted things to get fixed faster, then you could always—I don’t know—help me.”

Revrik groaned, raising his index finger and preparing a snarky comeback when the ship shook and the lights flickered.

“What was that?” the Chronicon hunter asked in panic, his eyes scanning the room.

Fitz pushed himself up to standing, his heart beating nervously as he tried to keep up his pretense. “I don’t know. Almost felt like something hit us.”

“What was that, human?” Bragah yelled as he stepped into the engine room, followed by Taqual.

Fitz stared at the Captain. “I don’t know,” he repeated a bit louder, lifting his shoulders, before spinning on his heels and heading for one of the consoles, letting his fingers dance across the surface. “Thought it was maybe an asteroid or something else that hit us. Must have caused a short-circuit. The internal sensors got knocked out, but with a bit of luck I can—” He paused in pretend surprise, though he knew exactly what the sensors would show him. “Oh no.”

“What?” Bragah exclaimed impatiently.

“Enoch!” Fitz spun around, pushing past the Chonicon hunters. “The impact caused a short-circuit or explosion or something. The sensors are showing significant damage.”

He rushed towards the part of the ship where they’d been held prisoner, pleased to hear Bragah and the rest of the crew following him. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Enoch on the ground in his cell, surrounded by smoke and wall debris. His heart sank, hoping his calculations had been correct and the short-circuit not strong enough to breach the hull or kill his Chronicon friend.

“Oh, for crying out loud. Can’t we catch a break for once?” Bragah growled behind him.

Fitz glanced over his shoulder, glaring at the Captain in annoyance. He rushed to Enoch’s cell, pressing his palms against the force field but pulling them back in pain when the electric shock rushed through his body. “Turn the bloody thing off,” he yelled at his captors, who looked back at him silently. “He’s bleeding. He’s injured. If you want to make any kind of profit with him, turn off the damn force field and let me help him.”

Bragah narrowed his eyes before pushing the panel next to the door, causing the field to shut down.

Fitz took the few steps to where Enoch was on the ground. He fell down on his knees beside his friend, resting one hand on Enoch’s shoulder, while staring in fear at the gushing wound on Enoch’s stomach, which the Chronicon tried to cover with his trembling hand. “How’re you doing, buddy?” he asked, breathlessly.

“Well, this is rather unpleasant,” Enoch croaked, his voice shaken with discomfort.

“Yeah, I bet.” One corner of Fitz’s mouth ticked up microscopically. “But we’ll get you to a place where you’ll feel better.” He shifted his position, trying to carefully pull Enoch up to sitting and snake his arm around the Chronicon’s shoulders. “Little help would be nice,” he barked in the direction of his three captors.

“What are you doing?” the captain asked, confused.

“Help me get him up. We need to get him to the cargo bay,” Fitz demanded.

“Why?”

“God,” Fitz growled through gritted teeth, as he tried to get up. “Stop with the questions and help me already. We need to get him to the pod.”

“What pod?” Bragah continued his line of questions, though he did take a step towards Fitz, wrapping his arm around Enoch and assisting Fitz in dragging the Chronicon down the corridor.

“The one you took from his ship.”

“The rescue pod? What’d you need that for?”

“Hey, remember when I said I had more medical knowledge than you?” Fitz said sarcastically, his breath ragged from carrying Enoch along.

“How’s a rescue pod gonna help us not lose our sole source of income?” Bragah barked back.

Fitz let go of Enoch, letting the captain hold on to the Chronicon alone, while he rushed to the torpedo shoot where they’d stored the cryo chamber. He pulled it out and opened it, staring for a moment inside. “‘Cause it’s not a rescue pod. It’s a healing chamber.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell us before?”

Fitz shrugged, straightening up and walking back to where Bragah stood with Enoch. “Dunno, didn’t seem relevant at the time,” he lied. “Now, help me get him in there.”

“Your help is very much appreciated,” Enoch suddenly piped up, his voice weak.

Fitz and Bragah lowered the Chronicon into the chamber, when Revrik called from the other end of the cargo bay. “What’s going on, Bragah?”

Bragah stood up, walking in angry steps to his two crew members. “The Doctor is making sure we still have something to sell when we reach the Intersection. That’s what’s going on.”

Fitz heard Revrik and Taqual continue to argue with the captain, but his focus shifted to Enoch. He forced a smile, placing his hands on the edge of the lid to close the chamber. “You tell her,” he whispered quietly.

He tried to push the lid shut, but Enoch’s hand shot up, pressing against the glass surface. “I worry about your safety.”

Fitz couldn’t help but grin. “Don’t worry. I thought it through. I’ll be just fine.”

Enoch bobbed his head barely noticeably, lowering his hand and allowing Fitz to close the lid and engage the chamber. He watched as ice slowly built up on the glass window, Enoch’s bloody handprint shimmering bright-red against the white of the crystals. He exhaled sharply, before pushing the cryo chamber back into the torpedo shoot and sealing it with the heavy, round closure.

“What are you doing?” Bragah asked, his tone laced with suspicion, causing Fitz to spin around on his heels.

Fitz smirked, starting challengingly back at the three Chronicon hunters. “Guess it’s a rescue pod after all.”

Bragah furrowed his brow, mumbling a confused “What?”

“Time to send him on his way,” Fitz said drily, twisting sideways and hitting the eject button for the torpedo shoot, which immediately began to rumble and hiss, the ship shaking slightly as the cryo chamber shot into space.

The captain’s face turned red with rage, as he pulled the remote for Fitz’s wristband out of his pocket, pushing its button. “Oh, you sorry excuse of a—” He stopped when Fitz didn’t break down in pain.

Fitz raised his right hand with the bracelet, his grin growing even wider. “Fun fact: Took me less than thirty minutes to deactivate it.”

Bragah pulled his weapon, pointing it at Fitz and taking a few angry steps towards him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Fitz yelled, hearing his heart hammer in his chest, as Bragah pushed him against the ship’s hull.

“And why’s that?” the captain growled, pressing the barrel of the gun against Fitz’s forehead and bringing his face closer.

“‘Cause if you kill me, you, and your crew, and this ship, and every piece of rubbish on it will be floating in space, ripped into about a billion little pieces.”

“What do you mean?” Bragah hissed through gritted teeth.

Fitz raised his left hand, revealing his watch. “See this? It’s a detonator, and it’s tied to my vitals. Which means, if my vitals stop then the many, many, little, cloaked explosives I hid throughout this ship while I crawled through every bloody air duct to repair the hull will go boom—and you’ll go boom right along with them.”

Bragah held his stare, and Fitz felt like he could see the Chronicon hunter’s mind ponder.

“He’s bluffing,” Taqual piped up from behind the captain.

Fitz scoffed, never taking his eyes of Bragah. “He could be right, of course. Or he could be wrong. Guess the real question is whether you’re willing to risk calling a bluff that may not be one.”

He glared into Fitz’s eyes a moment longer, before angrily lowering his gun and taking a step back.

Fitz bent over, stomach acid pushing up his esophagus when Bragah punched his stomach hard.

“Take him to his cell,” the captain barked at Revrik and Taqual.

Fitz straightened up, coughing a few times, as Revrik grabbed him by the arm, dragging him along until they reached the cell.

Fitz stumbled into his cell, propelled forward by Revrik’s push. He turned around, watching as the force field turned on.

“Oh, and don’t forget,” Fitz called after Revrik, “we humans need sustenance to survive. If we don’t survive, our vitals stop. So, if you don’t mind—I’m feeling a bit peckish.”

Revrik glared at him in utter disgust before stepping into the hallway and closing the heavy metal door.

Fitz stared at the closed door for a moment, feeling his breathing and his heart slowly calm down as the realization sank in that his plan had worked out so far. He turned to look at Enoch’s cell, debris from the short-circuit explosion still scattered on the floor, the red blood stain the only remnant of the Chronicon on the ship.

“Now you just have to find her, my friend,” he muttered quietly, blinking away tears and swallowing against the tightness in his throat. “Please find her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Please, no Wondercon-related spoilers in the comments, I don't want to know how far off or close I was until seeing the premier myself ;) ]


	5. Chapter 5

Jemma stared at the console in front of her, at the data from the sensor logs she had managed to access. “There was a massive energy surge, which explains why so many of the systems are offline, but it doesn’t explain why—” She spun around when she heard Agent Piper enter the cockpit of the Chronicon vessel. “Anything?” she asked breathlessly, desperate hope lacing her tone.

“No,” Piper replied, sadness in her voice. “There’s no one on board.”

Jemma sighed sharply, turning back to the console, her eyes wandering over the data once more. “It doesn’t make sense. Enoch’s message is still transmitting on a loop. This is his ship. He said they’d meet us halfway, and yet the ship is adrift and empty and—” She swallowed, trying to push back the tears filling her eyes.

“I did notice something though,” Piper piped up, causing Jemma to turn around to look at her.

“Yes?” Jemma asked, nervously, glancing briefly at Daisy.

“I mean, I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure the ship was ransacked.” Piper gestured over her shoulder with her thumb. “I mean the engine room was a mess, like someone ripped out parts, and—” She paused, looking hesitantly at Jemma, “—and I also didn’t see anything resembling the cryo chamber you described.”

Jemma stared at her silently for a moment as her mind processed this new information. “The energy surge,” she muttered to herself. “It was an attack.” Slowly she looked at Daisy. “Someone took them.”

Silence settled in the cockpit as the realization slowly sunk in that their search may once again have to start from scratch—just when they’d thought they were so close. Jemma blinked slowly, the world around her becoming blurry, her ears ringing, and her head cloudy.

“Zephyr to Chronicon vessel, do you copy?” Davis’ distorted voice suddenly broke the quiet through the communication system.

The three women flinched, exchanging surprised looks, before Jemma pushed a button on the console. “Yes, Agent Davis?”

“Our radar’s picking up something—an incoming vessel of sorts. Pretty small though. Not in visual range yet, but should be soon.”

Jemma looked at Daisy, who bobbed her head in agreement.

“We’re on our way back,” Jemma told Davis.

“Roger that.”

* * *

Jemma stepped into the Zephyr’s cockpit, resting one hand on the back of Davis’ pilot seat and leaning slightly forward, staring out the front window. “Any update?”

Davis shook his head. “It’s still on our radar, heading this way, but I can’t see anything—”

“There,” Jemma exclaimed, pointing at the horizon where she’d seen light reflect off a moving object.

“So what is it?” Daisy asked, stepping up from behind.

“Can you bring us a bit closer, Agent Davis?” Jemma requested.

“Ay.” Davis bobbed his head, engaging the engine and maneuvering the Zephyr in the direction of the small vessel.

Jemma fixed her eyes on the spot in space where she had noticed the object, her eyes widening and her lips parting as it grew and became clearer as they got closer. “It’s the cryo chamber,” she breathed.

“Are you sure?” Daisy asked, hesitantly.

“Yes,” Jemma replied firmly, before shifting focus. “Piper, seal off the cargo bay. Davis, turn the Zephyr around and open the ramp. Keep the Zephyr steady so that the chamber can float straight into the cargo bay.”

“Jemma, are you sure that’s safe?” Daisy’s question was calm and quiet. “We don’t know for sure that it’s—”

“Yes,” Jemma interrupted her, trying to keep her voice from trembling. “Yes, we do.”

Daisy’s gaze softened and she nodded slowly. “Piper, Davis, do as she said.”

“Ay,” Piper and Davis replied in unison.

* * *

Jemma watched impatiently as the ramp to the cargo bay closed. As soon as it was safe, she deactivated the seal and rushed down the stairs to where the cryo chamber lay on the floor. Fitz’s name escaped her as she fell down on her knees next to the pod, leaning over it to look through the small window pane at the top. Her heart sank when she noticed the bloody handprint, crystallized to ice, and then it stopped completely when she saw Enoch lying inside.

“No,” she whispered in disbelief, tears shooting to her eyes.

She flinched when Daisy dropped to her knees next to her, panting breathlessly. “You know you could have waited for us.”

Jemma pressed her lips into a thin line, swallowing against the tightness in her throat, before looking at her friend. “It’s not Fitz. It’s Enoch,” she said as matter-of-factly as she could manage.

Daisy’s eyes widened. “What?”

Jemma couldn’t bring herself to repeat what she’d said. She focused instead on the controls on the cryo chamber, entering the commands as Enoch had told her in the future when she’d inquired about how the chamber functioned.

The ice crystals on the window slowly disappeared, and a hiss echoed through the cargo bay, before the cryo chamber opened, revealing Enoch.

“Why is he not waking up?” Daisy asked in confusion.

Jemma’s eyes scanned the Chronicon’s body, immediately noticing the wound on his abdomen. “He’s injured. He’s unconscious.” She looked over her shoulder at Davis and Piper. “Get a stretcher. We need to bring him to the med bay.”

* * *

Jemma took off her latex gloves, throwing them into the garbage bin, her eyes fixed on Enoch’s face.

“So what now?” Daisy asked quietly from where she was leaning against one of the work benches, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“I don’t know,” Jemma replied in defeat, forcing her gaze away from the Chronicon to look at her friend. “He’s not exactly human. I have absolutely no idea what these injuries or—or this damage may do to him, if my attempts to offer medical aid have any merit, whether he’ll wake up.” She lifted her shoulders. “Whether he’s even still alive.”

Daisy sighed, clearly lost for words.

“Agent Simmons?” Piper’s quiet voice piped up, causing Jemma to turn to the door.

“Yes?”

“We set up the cryo chamber like you asked. Do you want us to head back to Enoch’s ship now? Do another search?”

Jemma shook her head. “No. There’s no use. He’s not there.” She exhaled sharply. “I’ll examine the chamber now. Maybe there are clues. Maybe there’s a way to retrace its trajectory.”

“Do you want help?” Daisy asked.

Jemma looked at her friend, contemplating her answer. “No. No, I’ll do it alone.”

Daisy bobbed her head, sadness shimmering in her eyes. “‘Kay.”

* * *

Even though Jemma felt drawn to the chamber, it was as if she had to force her feet to move closer. She lifted her hands, resting them against the cold, smooth metal surface, staring at the window, the bloody handprint the only bit of color in an ocean of grey. She’d felt so close when they’d received Enoch’s message, so hopeful after a year of chasing a needle in a haystack, dead end after dead end. Then the universe pulled the rug from under her once again when they found Enoch’s vessel empty and abandoned, only to build her back up when the chamber showed up on their radar.

Now.

It was back to square one. Back to waiting. Back to finding another way.

She’d never felt closer and simultaneously farther away.

Absentmindedly, she opened the pod, her fingers tracing the inner lining as if she could feel his imprint, his body heat, his presence.

Her eyes glazed over, and like in a trance she climbed into the chamber, pulling the lid shut.

She stared straight ahead, the red fingerprints becoming blurry in front of her. She felt the tightness of the confined space, and yet it wasn’t what made it hard to breathe. She closed her eyes, pressing her lips together, feeling a tear snake down her temple and disappear in her hairline. She swallowed, her throat dry and tight.

“Come back to me,” she whispered, as more tears found their way to the surface. “You promised.” She drew in a shaky breath. “You promised.”

Her body shook with sobs—the first time in the past year she allowed herself to break down, as whatever was left of her hope threatened to be drained from her body.

Jemma gasped when she heard Daisy’s muffled voice call out her name. She shifted in the confined space, unsure what to do, when Daisy’s face suddenly appeared above her.

The chamber hissed as Daisy opened the lid.

“I—” Jemma stammered, trying to explain why she’d been in the chamber.

But Daisy didn’t let her continue. “He’s awake,” she exclaimed instead, a smile appearing on her face.

Jemma stared at her wide-eyed, pushing herself up to sitting and scrambling to climb out of the pod. “Enoch? I need to talk to him. Did he say anything?”

Daisy’s smile grew even wider. “He’s already on his way to the cockpit to tell Davis how we can retrace the trajectory of the pod.”

Jemma felt her muscles tighten, her lungs barely drawing in air. “Fitz?” she whispered, her eyes filling with hopeful tears.

“He’s waiting for you. Guess he wanted to get Enoch to safety first.”

Jemma scoffed, a sound between a laugh and a sob. “Putting the life of another before his own. Typical.”

One corner of Daisy’s mouth ticked up. “How about you give him a stern talking to when we find him?”

“Find him,” Jemma repeated, nodding slowly, a pained smile playing on her lips. “We’ll find him.”

“Yes, we will,” Daisy agreed, before pulling Jemma into a hug as she broke down crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Please, no Wondercon-related spoilers in the comments, I don't want to know how far off or close I was until seeing the premier myself ;) ]


	6. Chapter 6

Fitz stared at the ceiling of his cell, his head propped up on his arms. It had been three days since he’d ejected Enoch into space. When he’d started to put his plan into action, he’d fixed the long-range sensors long enough to locate Enoch’s ship to calculate the trajectory the cryo chamber would need to take. He’d seen the Zephyr on the radar as well, still a few days away from reaching its destination. If all had gone according to plan, Enoch should have reached his ship’s location around the same time as the team. If all had gone according to plan, they should be here soon—very soon.

His tongue absentmindedly glided over his split lip, and he felt his bruised ribs each time he took a deep breath. Bragah had played both good cop and bad cop. He’d brought food and water, tried to reason with Fitz, reminded him of the good ol’ times—those three days before the ‘incident’ when Fitz had been a part of their crew. He didn’t take Fitz’s sarcastic scoff very well. Next, he’d tried to beat the truth out of Fitz, but that hadn’t gone over very well either, as Fitz reminded him that he was risking blowing up his ship and himself in the process if he went too far.

Now, Fitz hadn’t seen anyone for more than a day. His stomach was the only one protesting that arrangement. He assumed Bragah had joined Taqual and Revrik in searching every inch of the ship to find the cloaked explosives. Fitz chuckled at the thought.

He sat up straight when a deep rumble echoed through the ship, the vessel shaking as if something had hit or latched on to it.

“Jemma,” Fitz whispered, his heart filled with hope and nervous excitement.

He got up, focusing all his senses to detect new sounds, new sensations that could give him clues as to what was happening. But the cells were too removed to give him much besides anxious anticipation—until the ground shook beneath him.

He laughed when he felt the aftershocks of the quake, Daisy’s name escaping him with joy. He stared at the window of the door to the cell block, his lips pulling into a wide smile when Enoch’s face suddenly appeared and the door slid open.

“Good to see you again,” Fitz said.

Enoch bobbed his head. “Your plan—though risky—appears to have worked as anticipated.” He turned around to try and deactivate the force field.

“Daisy!” Fitz’s eyes lit up when his friend stepped into the doorframe. 

She stared at him in silent shock, her lips slightly parted.

“It appears that the controls for the force field are tied to the Chronicon hunter’s fingerprints,” Enoch remarked matter-of-factly.

Fitz looked at Daisy, shrugging slightly, one corner of his mouth ticking up. “Little help then?”

The hesitation in Daisy’s eyes and her tense body language confused him, but then she raised her hand, told Enoch to step back, and quaked the controls for the force field, causing it to shut down.

Fitz took the few steps towards her, wrapping his arms around her. “Oh, it’s good to see you.”

A tremor seemed to rush through her as her muscles tightened, and she broke the hug, mumbling a quiet “Yeah, you too.”

Fitz furrowed his brow. “Are you alright?”

She looked at him like a deer in the headlights, bobbing her head in a way that was anything but convincing, but Fitz felt like now wasn’t the time to keep prodding about her strange behavior, that maybe that’s just how you react when you see a ghost come back to life.

“Where’s Jemma?” he asked instead, the question burning on his lips.

A ghost of a smile appeared on Daisy’s lips, as she ticked her head to the side. “Told her to stay behind, since we didn’t know what they’d done—”

“Fitz?” Jemma’s voice echoed through the hallway, and as if by reflex Fitz replied by whispering her name in return.

Daisy scoffed. “But she never listens to me.”

Fitz pushed past his friend, stopping in his tracks as soon as he stepped into the hallway and saw Jemma at the other end.

“Jemma,” he whispered again, tears filling his eyes.

She called out his name before rushing towards him. He met her halfway, their bodies colliding with desperate force as their arms wrapped around each other. She sobbed into his shoulder, and he tried to pull her closer, whispering “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” over and over again.

“Look at me,” Jemma pleaded, cupping Fitz’s face and pushing it far enough away so she could see it, her fingers combing through his curls and tracing his features. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her smile looked pained and happy at the same time. She pressed her palms against Fitz’s chest, right above his heart, closing her eyes as a wave of relieved laughter bubbled to the surface. Her eyes wandered back to his, her hands once again cupping his face. “You came back to me.”

Fitz bobbed his head, ignoring the watery trails of tears snaking down his cheeks. “You found me.”

He closed his eyes when her lips crashed against his, and his body and mind drank in the familiar sensation.

“The ship’s all clear. Piper’s got everyone detained in the cargo bay. I suggest we head back to the Zephyr. Don’t want to keep it on autopilot for too long.”

Fitz looked up in surprise at the sound of the familiar voice. “Davis?” he whispered in disbelief, staring at the man standing behind Jemma.

The tall agent smiled cockily back at him. “Long story. I’ll tell you later. Good to see you again, sir.”

“He’s right,” Daisy piped up behind Fitz, causing him to look over his shoulder. “Let’s go home.”

Fitz mirrored the soft smile playing on Daisy’s lips, and the corners of his mouth pulled even wider when he looked back at Jemma, noticing the joyful sparkle in her eyes. “Yes, let’s go home,” he repeated more quietly, intertwining his fingers with Jemma’s and heading down the hallway towards the cargo bay.

He walked straight to where the Zephyr’s pod had docked to the Chronicon hunter’s vessel, only glancing in passing at Bragah, Taqual, and Revrik, who were sitting on the ground, their hands tied behind their backs, their eyes fiery with anger.

“Let’s go, Piper,” he heard Daisy call out behind him.

He squeezed Jemma’s hand more tightly, reassuring himself of her presence, that everything around him was real, when Bragah’s booming voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Doctor!”

Fitz spun around, glaring at his former captor. “Don’t call me that. It’s not who I am. My name’s Fitz.”

“What’s gonna happen to us now?” Bragah asked, growling through his teeth.

Fitz scoffed, raising his left arm to reveal his watch. “Guess in a few minutes when the Zephyr’s out of range, you’ll know whether I was bluffing or not. But if I wasn’t, I hope you’re smart enough to never come near me or Enoch or anyone I know ever again. Because you know you’re no match.”

He turned around and headed for the Zephyr’s pod, exhaling a breath of relief when he heard the doors slide shut and the pod detach from the Chronicon hunter’s ship.

“What was that about?” Jemma asked, a half-smile playing on her lips.

Fitz looked from person to person. “I told them I had hidden a bunch of cloaked explosives throughout the ship that would go off if my watch stopped transmitting my vitals to them.”

“And did you?” Piper asked curiously.

Fitz shrugged, pursing his lips. “May have exaggerated a little bit. In any case, they won’t be a threat to us anymore.”

“Then let’s go home,” Jemma said softly, squeezing Fitz’s hand. “A lot of people will be very happy to see you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for staying with me and for all your lovely comments. I hope you enjoyed this little fic.
> 
> [Please, no Wondercon-related spoilers in the comments, I don't want to know how far off or close I was until seeing the premier myself ;) ]


End file.
